


Red Stains Are the Hardest to Get Out

by ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Magical Realism, Multi, Past Abuse, Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 12:57:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18011321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass/pseuds/ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass
Summary: No number of lovely or loving words can undo what he did, what he tried to do, or who he is. It would be nice if Joshua could, if he would be willing to try, but Jeonghan could never ask that of him. Joshua doesn’t deserve that.





	Red Stains Are the Hardest to Get Out

**Author's Note:**

> Presently a one shot but likely to be developed further at some point.
> 
> Author’s disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters I write about are based off of real people but are by no means intended to represent real people; the personalities I write are inferred from public personas and should not be taken as accurate portrayals of their real world counterparts.
> 
> I’ve been around enough to see people confusing fiction with reality, so before you read my story, I implore you to recognize these as characters, not celebrities. Please don’t project what you read in stories onto real people. Please respect real people.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy my fic.

Jeonghan is normal, by all accounts, as far as anyone else can tell. He lives in a cozy little apartment, has hobbies, and likes trying to get stray cats to let him pet them. He’s just like his neighbors, his coworkers, and anyone he passes on the street. He’s perfectly normal and perfectly human - except he isn’t.

He doesn’t like the conservatory at the park because of how trapped and small it makes him feel. He doesn’t like the sensation of metal against his skin and always uses his sleeve to open doors because of it. He doesn’t like a lot of things, and whenever he’s asked he comes up with excuse after excuse as to why.

What else can he do? Honesty is out of the question. He’d rather tell people that he’s sensitive to light and that’s why he keeps blackout curtains over his apartments large windows than tell them it’s because he’s terrified that he’s being watched, and that if he didn’t then the fear would keep him up all night. He’d rather say that he’s germaphobic than admit the chill he experiences when he grips a doorknob makes his skin crawl. He’d rather go back to that gilded cage, that _hell_ , than let anyone know he was ever there at all. And he would rather die than let anyone see the box of feathers stained red that’s buried in his closet.

But he can’t keep everything to himself, and so Jeonghan paints. He paints a dull and dreary sky then dashes it with a criss-crossed mass of solid lines. He paints a golden key strung on a delicate silk ribbon. He paints almost every day and he doesn’t show his work to anyone.

It’s too personal, too close. It scares Jeonghan to think someone could piece him together if they saw his paintings, because he knows they could. He doesn’t hide anything when it’s on the canvas.

And everyone knows. Everyone knows what happened the day Jeonghan left that place. Even if they only know half of the story, even if they don’t know that it was him, they know.

No one can know.

Making sure no one finds out is easy enough. Jeonghan just has to go to bed at ten every night and wake up at six so he can be at work on time. He just has to remember to smile and be as polite as possible when he declines his coworkers offers to join for lunch, and no one will ever know what he did. No one will ever know what he is.

The only problem is that his plan, his routine, is thrown off by the man across the hall from him - Joshua. He always knocks on Jeonghan’s door with a casserole or something in hand, saying that he never sees Jeonghan bring groceries home and worries that he isn’t eating right.

It’s hard for Jeonghan to remember to smile in front of Joshua, because he has stars in his eyes that always capture Jeonghan’s attention, always make him lose focus. He’s tried to paint those eyes a few times, but he never finishes the projects. Something about the way they shine is simply impossible for Jeonghan to replicate.

Jeonghan isn’t sure if he wants Joshua to stop knocking on his door or if he wants him to never stop. It’s confusing. He feels observed, almost stripped bare, and yet he’s calm every time he stares into those eyes. It’s so different from what he experienced back then, when he would feel tension creep up his spine and seize his muscles every time he heard the door open.

_ He _ thought he knew everything about Jeonghan, liked to think that his taunts got under Jeonghan’s skin because he was clever. His words didn’t hurt because they were well aimed, though; they hurt because they were a reminder of his control, of Jeonghan’s inability to fight back.

_ He _ thought he was so smart when he never had a true impression, a true understanding, of Jeonghan. Joshua, on the other hand, seems to have actually figured him out.

But he can’t have. If Joshua knew, he wouldn’t still bring Jeonghan a fruit bowl for seemingly no other reason than that it was Sunday. No, if Joshua knew, he would call the police. He would call bloody animal control on Jeonghan if he knew.

Joshua can’t know.

For some reason, the idea of Joshua knowing, of turning on him, revoking his kindness, fills Jeonghan with regret. He knows he isn’t entitled to anything, especially from Joshua, but he wants so much for things to stay as they are. He wants Joshua to keep knocking on his door and asking him about the weather when they pass in the hall, if only because he can’t imagine asking for anything more.

Jeonghan can’t ask Joshua to eat dinner with him or go see a movie. He can’t ask Joshua to come in and see his art or keep him company on the nights that he can’t sleep. And he can’t ask Joshua to forgive him or hold his hands and wash the blood from them.

The stains are too deep for even Jeonghan to get them out, buried under the layers of scabs that never healed right. No number of lovely or loving words can undo what he did, what he tried to do, or who he is. It would be nice if Joshua could, if he would be willing to try, but Jeonghan could never ask that of him. Joshua doesn’t deserve that.

So Jeonghan will keep smiling and declining the lunch invites. He will keep painting and storing the finished canvases away from prying eyes. He will keep going to bed at ten every night and sleep in fear. He will keep waking up at six and be relieved to find that the little key is still hidden away beneath his pillow. He will keep living as he has been and it will be enough.

He escaped, that’s what matters. Even if it’s only physically.

**Author's Note:**

> Art is only complete once it has been witnessed. Want to help finish a story? Leave a comment. If you have a thought after reading a fic, tell the author about it. Comments motivate, inspire, and please us immensely - like a cat getting pats. So spread a little goodness, support your fandom authors and leave a comment to let them know you see their work.


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